


Between First and Second Sleep

by fresne



Category: Merchant of Venice - Shakespeare
Genre: Gen, OFC - Freeform, Original Female Character - Freeform, POV Female Character, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4875802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Venetians, it was common enough to visit neighbours after First Sleep and before setting down for Second Sleep. At around midnight, they'd get out of bed from First Sleep, put on their warmest night visiting robes and best night visiting slippers, and step out onto the narrow stone bridges over the canals and cross the cobbled plazas with candles all aglow for a visit. If they didn't want to go out, they'd light the lantern by the door to indicate they were at home to visitors. </p><p>Venice glowed in the middle of the night during the visiting hour.</p><p>Night Visiting was one thing, but Night Painting was another. Rachel had never heard of such a thing, which meant she definitely had to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between First and Second Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is post play and deals primarily with freshly made characters. 
> 
> This story and dialog were inspired by Shakespeare's "Merchant of Venice".

Between First Sleep and Second Sleep

From where she was curled in the chair up beneath the window, Rachael could hear the faint shwap, shwap, shwap of someone painting the front door. 

It was the middle of the night, so this was a little unusual.

Oh, for Venetians, it was common enough to visit neighbours after First Sleep and before setting down for Second Sleep. At around midnight, they'd get out of bed from First Sleep, put on their warmest night visiting robes and best night visiting slippers, and step out onto the narrow stone bridges over the canals and cross the cobbled plazas with candles all aglow for a visit. If they didn't want to go out, they'd light the lantern by the door to indicate they were at home to visitors. 

Venice glowed in the middle of the night during the visiting hour.

Night Visiting was one thing, but Night Painting was another. Rachel had never heard of such a thing, and she listened in on what everyone had to say. Even if Father Rodrigo told her gossip wasn't a very Christian thing to do, she knew it must be very Christian because every Christian she knew did it. Rachel might only be ten, but she understood very well the difference between what people said and what people did. Mostly it seemed if the priest said not to do something that was because everyone did it all the time.

Night Visiting for example. Father Rodrigo loved to raise a glass of wine while Night Visiting and talk about how the practice led people to sin. 

But when Rachel heard the shwap, shwap, shwap, it was time for Second Sleep and the time for visits was long over.

Rachel had already gone out with Mama and Papa to visit Mistress Portia and her husband, Master Bassanio. Everyone said that their good friend, Antonio the Elder, who had lived with them as long as anyone could remember, was Mistress Portia's lover, but their son, Tonio, wouldn't answer Rachel's questions.

They'd argued about it earlier, which Rachel didn't think was fair at all. She'd only asked Tonio, because she was curious, and she'd seen Master Bassanio kiss Antonio the Elder that one time with tongues moving around like rats in each other's mouths.

She thought that had been a particularly poetic turn of phrase. She liked rats. They were very clean and had bright eyes, and seemed always to be smiling.

But Tonio had accused Rachel of trying to get his Father imprisoned for sodomy and break his Mother's heart and he'd called Rachel a filthy Jewess. 

Now generally, Rachel wasn't of the opinion that she had to take anyone's opinion but her own. But Rachel's Mama had been a Jew and Rachel was named after her Jewish grandmamma. Mama had become Christian when she married Papa, but not very Christian. Papa and Mama mostly went to Mass to gossip, just like everyone else. So, maybe she was very Christian if she was like every other Christian. Mama wasn't filthy. Not that the Jews that Rachel saw in the market were terribly filthy either, and Mama always told her that she mustn't think of them that way and that she mustn't be ashamed.

Rachel had an idea Mama was ashamed of something, or she wouldn't keep saying that. 

Rachel wasn't ashamed anything. Not eating all the honey that one time. Not listening to gossip. Not even the time she'd cut off all her hair because she'd wanted to cut her own hair, and then had to go about with a cloth covering her head, which Rachel had thought was marvellous and made her feel like a wizard, and who was to say a wizard couldn't be a girl, because everyone knew that witches got their powers through sex with the devil, but wizards got their powers by studying, which made Rachel wondered why everyone didn't just study, but she supposed books took money and not everyone could read, and certainly adults liked to talk about sex; so maybe there was something to it after all. 

Still not being ashamed didn't meant that Rachel couldn't be upset by arguing with her friend. That was why Rachel hadn't been able to settle down to Second Sleep. She'd picked up the Bible and had been planning to tempt sleep by reading the begat part of Genesis. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing more boring than a whole lot of begats, and just because she could read didn't mean she was a Jew or a Protestant; although she couldn't quite understand why that would be a problem; especially since Mistress Golda always talked so kindly to Mama when they went into her shop, but either way, she could read and Tonio could go to hell; except she didn't want him to go to hell, because he was her best friend; even if he'd called her a filthy Jewess and thrown the toy soldiers she'd saved up her pennies to give him for his last birthday, but once she'd decided someone was her friend she wasn't about to let a little thing like their being stupid matter. 

But none of that had anything to do with someone painting her front door past the middle of the night. That was much more interesting than some old begats. 

Rachel stood on the chair and pushed her way passed the thick curtains to look out the window. There was an old man wearing the silly red hat Jews had to wear by law, and a Jew's Star of David on his robes, which they didn't, and waving a red rag at the board over the door, which had a name, but for the life of her Rachel couldn't remember it just then.

Perhaps that's why when she opened the window, she didn't ask the Jew why he was painting the board over her door. Instead, she asked, "What's the name of the board over the door?"

The old man jumped and she was a little worried that he might drop dead right there, but instead he blinked at her for long enough for the paint to drip from his rag onto the stones. Actually, she supposed it was too thin to be paint, but it was much too thick to be water.

Rachel said, "It's alright if you don't know." She looked at the darkened lantern by the door. Mama had put it out when they'd come back from their Night Visit. "Do you need more light?"

He swallowed once. Then he swallowed again. He put his rag on his bucket. He said, "Child, I would be very grateful if you would light the lantern so I can see you more clearly."

Rachel hopped down from the chair. She got a tinder and opened the front door. The man was waiting patiently. She kissed her fingers and brushed them on the metal box by the door like Mama always did, because it was a good luck charm, and biting her lip, because that made it easier, she lit the lantern. 

When it was done, she grinned at the man. She could see he was very, very old now that there was more light. She said, "Are you here for a Night Visit? I didn't know that Jews could go Night Visiting; I thought they had to stay in their homes after dark, which must be pretty horrible in the winter when it gets dark so early, but if you're here for a visit, you're too late. Mama and Papa have gone to bed, but we have wine and cheese if you want it. The breads only a little dry, but if we melt the cheese on it, the bread will loosen up, and are you sure that you don't know what the name of the piece of wood over the door, because now I really want to know. Although it's still…"

"Peace, child." He held up a hand. His fingers were spotted with age. "It's called a lintel, and this," he kissed his fingers and brushed them across the metal good luck charm, "was the mezuzah from your Mother's house when she grew up." 

"I knew that." Rachel nodded and, wanting to add something to the conversation, said, "It's a good luck charm."

The old man drew himself up taller and looked very angry. Rachel though he looked like old King David must have looked when he was so very old that he had to sleep with a virgin for warmth, but still looked like someone who could have cut off a lot of foreskins when he was younger. "It is not a good luck… charm." The word charm stretched out and then was abruptly cut off. "It is a contract for protection and blessings from the one who is not three or five or a thousand." He slid a paper from inside the mezuzah and tisked his tongue as he unrolled it. "Jessica hasn't had anyone to look at this since she put it up." Rachel peered around his arm to look at the paper. He knew her Mama's name, so he must know her Mama. She hoped he knew stories about her when she was younger. The man pointed at flaws on the paper. It did look very old and spotted like the old man's hands. "See how the print is faded and there's a touch of mould here." 

Rachel was getting a little worried. "You should put it back now. Mama always says she couldn't feel comfortable in her house if it weren't there."

"There is that at least." His shoulders slumped and the old man replaced it, saying, "Blessed are you, Hashem, our G*d, creator of time and space, who enriches our lives with holiness, commanding us to attach a mezuzah to our homes." 

He huffed out a breath that curled steam in the night air. "And no, Jews aren't allowed to go Night Visiting. They must remain in their homes from dusk to dawn guarded by armed Christians at the gate to the ghetto." 

Rachel had every sympathy for doing something that wasn't allowed, particularly when the rules were stupid. She did it every time she could find a hole in what someone was asking. If Mama said, "Clean the floor," that meant pile everything on the bed, and if Papa said, "Clean the bed," that meant pile everything on the floor. It wasn't her fault people couldn't be specific.

She picked up his bucket. "Then you should come in so you don't get caught. Now, what's your name? Because I can't let you in if I don't know your name." Rachel knew her way around what she could and couldn't do.

"I am… Master Shylock," said the man.

Rachel bobbed her head. "I'm Rachel," and since he was still just standing there, she waved him to come in. "Come on. The night watch will walk this way in a few minutes."

He didn't resist as she tugged him inside the door and went into the kitchen. He did say, "Do you often allow strangers into your home?" He looked around the kitchen. "I could mean you harm."

She looked him up and down, and laughed. "You're really, really old, and Papa calls me his little ox because I can lift a twenty pound bag of flour, even though I'm only ten. Anyway, I have a knife." She pulled the knife she used for eating from its sheath. "I keep it really sharp." 

"I see that." He sighed. "Still, as I am a filthy Jew, I could use filthy poison." The last word lingered like honey in his mouth. Rachel liked the way he said it. She liked the way he talked all over.

Rachel laughed. "You're cleaner than Father Rodrigo, who only bathes for Easter." She pinched her nose to illustrate her point. She always loved this kind of game, but most people got angry when she played. She carefully cut the cheese and bread, and set them on a pan over the embers in the fireplace to warm up. "But you're in my house, and I'm ten, which I've been told is a naturally evil age," she rolled her eyes, "and since I'm serving you, maybe you should worry about… poison." She wiggled her eyebrow as she poured Master Shylock watered wine and another for herself. 

His brow wrinkled and he removed his silly looking red hat. "Perhaps," he measured his words as if they were very precious, "you should worry about magic. Perhaps, I am a wizard, who was once a simple moneylender. So simple that he trusted the law of this city to give him revenge for himself and his people, and when the quality of that cities mercy was to take away everything he had and force his conversion, he left. Perhaps that man though no longer young crossed half the world for study. Perhaps he learned the way to call on a higher form of justice." His teeth bit through the word justice.

Rachel's eyes widened. Master Shylock was quite easily the most interesting Night Visitor there had ever been. She looked in the bucket. "Is this the blood of a black rooster slaughtered on the night of a full moon under a hanged man?"

"No!" Master Shylock rubbed at his mussed silver hair, which was as well trimmed as his beard. He had a very kingly nose, which suited his own hair better than the wig. Rachel knew a kingly nose when she saw one because she had a queenly nose, which she got from her Mama.

She was about to ask more, when a burned scent reached that nose. "Oh, the bread!" Rachel raced to the fire and pulled the pan off the fire, which since it was very hot, she succeeded mostly in burning her hand and scattering bread on the floor. 

"Be careful." Master Shylock took her hand as she hissed. He tisked his tongue. "It's a wonder that Jessica allows you to greet visitors.

"Well," Rachel wriggled her reddened fingers, "I'm not really supposed to, but I did ask your name before I let you in."

"You did do that," he glared down his nose, "but you shouldn't be so quick to trust." She snorted at the idea that she couldn't take care of herself. 

Master Shylock sighed and lifted her to sit on the table. He filled a bowl with cool water from the jug and put her hand in it. He bustled about the kitchen pulling this and that down from the shelves, which he sprinkled into the bowl. The burn eased enough for Rachel to peer over the side of the table at the bread. He said without looking, "Don't even think of moving." 

Rachel sighed. Then she sighed again and wriggled her fingers in the bowl. "My hand feels fine." 

"Keep it in the bowl for at least sixty more heartbeats." He glared at her. "Can you count that high?"

"I'm ten, not three." Rachel felt it was Master Shylock's own fault if he had to listen to her count while he cleaned up the bread on the floor and scraped off the cheese, which showed he must be a wizard because the bread hadn't landed cheese down on the floor.

It even tasted good. "So," she crunched down on a piece of cheese, "what kind of blood is it?"

"Don't talk while you're eating," said Master Shylock. She rolled her eyes at him. "It's lamb's blood." 

"Oh, then you're a good wizard," said Rachel, before taking another crunch.

"And what do you base that conclusion on?" asked Master Shylock, arching an eyebrow.

She flicked water from the bowl at him, which startled a laugh. "Whoever heard of someone doing dark magic with lamb's blood? Anyway, you fixed my hand."

He shook his head. "It wasn't a very deep burn, and there are many dark things that may be done with the blood of a lamb." She flicked more water at him, and he sighed. "In this case," he said so slowly, she had to wonder if each word had once had to be written in mud, "I was warding your home against the curse that I will cast come the morning. All the more important now that I've seen the state of your mezuzah."

Rachel was about to ask about the curse, when there was a knock at the door. She hopped down from the table and went to the door. She looked out the window and saw it was Tonio. 

Tonio looked miserable. He looked like he'd been crying. His eyes were puffy and red and everything. He said, "I saw that you still had your lantern on." Tonio sniffed. "I'm sorry, I called you a filthy Jew. But," he bunched his hands. "You can't say things like that about Uncle Antonio and my Father, it's dangerous." 

Rachel sniffed and was about to close the door on this non-apology when he said, "You're not filthy at all."

"But," said Master Shylock, who looked very regal in his black robes with the Star of David shining over his heart, "Rachel is Jewish in that her Mother is a Jew and reminded herself of this by naming her child after her own mother."

Just then Rachel remembered the lamb's blood. She said, "Oh, Master Shylock, you should bless Tonio's house against the curse."

Master Shylock came closer. "But that would defeat the purpose of the curse, as he is the eldest son of his Father's house," said Master Shylock. "I know Master Bassanio's son when I see him. I don't think much of a young man who comes to visit a girl while her parents are sleeping."

"What? Tonio?" Rachel laughed. "Please, don't be silly. But," she pointed at Master Shylock, "you are not going to distract me." He puffed up, but she put her hands on her hips to show she meant it. "You may as well give in and bless Tonio's house. I can be very annoying." 

"God's teeth, you're annoying," said Tonio, so she poked him. 

She told Tonio, "Master Shylock's a wizard." Rachel felt so proud, she could have been floating with pride, because she'd never met a wizard when going on a Night Visit to Tonio's house. Only some of the Council of Ten, who were all boring.

Tonio didn't seem properly in awe of her guest. He said, "Who are you? Are you some relative of Rachel's mother?" He glanced at Rachel and back at Master Shylock. "You shouldn't be here. You're not allowed to leave the ghetto after dark."

"Yes," is was very impressive how much venom Master Shylock put in that yes, "aren't you just an excellent example of the fine quality of Venice's Christian mercy and hospitality, Master Tonio, son of Mistress… Portia and..." 

"Don't talk about my parents." Tonio's hands were balled into fists.

Rachel was getting a little irritated. Without thinking, she shoved Tonio, and winced because she'd used her burned hand. "Owe."

Master Shylock grabbed her hand and examined it. "This needs to be back in the bowl for at least another sixty heartbeats. He pushed her back into the kitchen. Tonio trailed after.

Tonio said, "If I call the guard, they'll throw you in prison for being here."

"If you call the guard, I'll cast my curse now. I've already marked every house in the ghetto and had to use precious time to slip back out past the guards. As it was, I almost did not come here to mark this house." Master Shylock pressed Rachel's hand further in the bowl. "I cannot hear you counting."

"I'm counting," said Rachel, who just to be annoying decided to count in Latin, which she'd badgered Sister Maria into teaching her. But Master Shylock wasn't impressed at all. He counted after her in Jewish.

"In Hebrew," said Master Shylock, hardly pausing his count. 

Rachel had never been more glad that Papa snored and Mama stuffed her ears with cotton. "Can girls be wizards," asked Rachel. She felt everything hinged on Master Shylock answer. 

"Rachel!" said Tonio, who she hadn't even been asking. "No, girls can't be wizards!" 

"Ah," said Master Shylock, "But they can also be quite able lawyers."

"No, they can't," said Tonio. He was turning a little red and looked almost as if he'd cry again.

Master Shylock held up a finger. He waved that finger, "If a girl has a clever mind, hah," he looked at Rachel, "she can dress in a boy's clothes and play a doctor of the law and thwart well worded justice. But," he seemed to consider what to say next, "when her work is done, her only choice is to be what she is not or be confined to skirts again." He looked up towards the ceiling, where there was a faint sound of snoring, "doubly so if she's a Jew's blood and a woman's heart."

"Oh, what happened," said Rachel, fairly certain there was a story here, because she could always tell.

Tonio sat in a chair and Rachel held court on the table, while Master Shylock told an amazing story about an entire race, who were forced to dress as fools by prideful men who thought they were dressed in rich robes, when they were actually naked, and women dressed as men, and a cloak of invisibility and there were at least three magical journeys by flying horse and a dragon. It ended a good deal happier than Master Shylock had started. 

It was the best story ever told.

From outside, Rachel could hear the town crier being annoying like always, because no one ever wanted to get up from Second Sleep. 

Tonio jumped up. "Oh, Mother will be checking on me. I have to go. Umm… nice to meet you, Master Shylock." He ran out the door, and Rachel had to close the door after him because sometimes she wondered if Tonio hadn't been born in a barn.

Rachel looked out at the pink peeking over the rooftops. "Is it too late for your curse? Please, don't cast it until you've blessed Tonio's house. Not after you told him a story."

Master Shylock sighed. "It would seem that it is too late to cast my curse."

"Sorry," though she was only a little sorry.

Master Shylock looked as if he could tell she was only a little sorry. "I think that if tomorrow you can convince your parents to stay in, and light the lantern, I shall come for a Night Visit." He reached up and brushed the inside of the lintel and then slowly smiled at her. "Perhaps it is time I seek a different sort of revenge." He leaned down. "How would you like to learn to read in Hebrew and learn of your people? You might be required to dress as a boy as we go about the city."

Rachel very much wanted. "Will there be magic?"

Master Shylock smiled in a way that said yes. But what he actually said was, "Even if your parents forbid it?" He looked very serious.

Rachel especially wanted to do it then.

"Even if it is… unchristian?" Master Shylock's face was very serious, but there was a smile somewhere in his toes. Rachel could tell.

Rachel could barely contain how much she wanted to learn and study and have adventures. 

"Then," said Master Shylock, "You may definitely expect to see me tomorrow night. I shall bring paper and pen so I can repair the protection on your door. Though," he looked up and down the street, and lowered his voice, "I may turn out to have an even larger secret."

"Even better," said Rachel, who could barely wait until the next night. 

Master Shylock lifted the hood of his robes and in a wink disappeared as if he wasn't standing there, while Rachel clapped.

It was fortunate that she slept through a good deal of the day, because the next night was even more amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing, check out my profile for more information on other things I've written.


End file.
